Once in a Blue Moon
by Night313-Dream33
Summary: Remus Lupin...Because there's more to everyone's story.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling (as much as I'd like to) Lyca, Caleb, and Fenris are the only characters that belong to me.

CHAPTER ONE

Remus Lupin was badly winded and his legs ached, but he didn't stop running. Fear and adrenaline pushed his little six-year-old body to the limit. He couldn't stop because if he did then the monster would get him. Images of sharp teeth, yellow eyes and dark fur darted across his vision. Remus plowed passed trees and through bushes, zigzagging in an attempt to lose his pursuer. Nothing worked. Remus was losing speed; his endurance was running out. He could hear the monster getting closer. Quickly, he turned his head to look behind him and his foot got hooked on a gnarled tree root. Remus saw stars as his face made contact with frozen mulch. His attempts to get up were interrupted as rows of sharp teeth made contact with his fragile leg. The silence of the night was broken by the sound of braking bones. Intense pain ripped through his entire body as the rest of the world dissolved into darkness.

Remus woke from his dream with a start. He heart was racing and his body was dripping with sweat. He rested his arms on his knees and laid his head in his hands. He breathed deeply for the next few minutes, desperately trying to calm himself. He was safe within the castle walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was lying in his bed in the Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory. It was all just a dream…then why was he still shaking?

Remus closed his eyes and layback down, but after ten minutes of tossing and turning decided that sleep was lost on him. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Remus stood and made his way over to the bay window. He stared pensively through the glass, his gaze wandering over the castle grounds until it came to rest on the moon. The shining silver orb hung gracefully in the night sky, and Remus couldn't help but be entranced by its silent beauty. It would be full tomorrow night, and once again Remus would be forced to undergo his werewolf transformation.

Remus had come to grips with his fate years ago, but the nightmares continued to haunt him. Knowing that he had that monster inside him tormented him. He felt dirty, foul, and unclean. He feared the wolf inside him; feared losing himself in the anger and bloodlust that dominated that animal part of him. That was not Remus John Lupin, the school prefect and overall good guy he believed himself to be. The fact that he could do nothing to stop the changes made him feel powerless, like he was still that six-year-old boy that could to nothing but trip and fall.

Remus sighed heavily and forced himself to look away. He willed himself to concentrate on his friend, Sirius, sleeping soundly in the bed next to his. He watched his friend's chest rise and fall at even intervals. Memories of the past 5 years ran through his mind. Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew were the only really true friends Remus had ever known, and he cherished them like nothing else in the world. They had accepted him, wolf and all, and had strived to help him overcome his handicap. They had lied, stole, fought, and broke about every school rule imaginable for him. Around them he almost felt normal. Almost.

His thoughts were interrupted by an extremely loud snort-mid-snore from Peter three beds down. Remus chuckled softly to himself. If he never received anything else ever again, at least he knew he had his friends.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Lyca Frost sat quietly at the Slytherin table eating her breakfast of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and freshly squeezed orange juice, courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves. She feigned interest in the conversations taking place around her. She hated having to pretend to like these pretentious pureblooded snobs. She could care less whose parents gave them what or where they planned to vacation next summer. She would much rather be discussing the mating habits of the Ukrainian Ironbelly, or the proper application of woodrose in Good Luck Balm, or even what secret ingredient made Fizzing Whizbees taste so good. It wasn't that she wasn't proud of her heritage; her family could trace their ancestry back to the original Wizards' Council. She just felt that it took more than blood and family ties to make a great witch or wizard. Lyca sighed and reached for an apple.

"Hey Lyca," said a familiar smooth voice behind her. "Mind if I sit down?"

Lyca smiled and turned her head. Finally, somebody who could maintain an intelligent conversation had arrived. "Do you even need to ask Severus?" She shifted to make room on the bench for her life-long friend Severus Snape. "Besides, how would it look if I refused to allow my betrothed sit next to me? Mother and Father would not approve." She shook her head sarcastically, attempting to disguise the anger and frustration she felt regarding that particular situation.

The Snape and Frost families had been close friends and allies for generations, and the families had finally decided to unite the two bloodlines. They played together as children (if you could call stealing her father's wand and playing pranks on their nannies play). Despite their families' best wishes, the pair seemed to look at each other more as siblings than lovers. They were friends, confidants, intellectual sparing partners, and occasionally partners in crime. They were betrothed to each other before they could walk, and neither Lyca nor Severus had any say in the matter. There was nothing, short of death or direct familial disobedience that could get them out of it.

"I don't see why you let it bother you," Severus said. "You know that nothing would change their minds, so why fight it? Besides, you'll get premature wrinkles if you keep frowning like that." He hid his smiling face behind his second-hand copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

"Why Severus Snape," Lyca answered in mock disbelief. "I do believe that was a joke."

"Then you are sorely mistaken," He said, face still hidden behind his book. "I am merely concerned about the aesthetically pleasing features of my future wife. I refuse to have a wife that looks like a dried prune at the age of 18." Lyca threw the rest of her apple at him in retaliation. She even began to say something witty in retort, but was interrupted by a loud BANG from the Gryffindor table.

Apparently the infamous Sirius Black had convinced his comrade Peter Pettigrew to try a modified Engorgement Charm on an unwitting piece of fruit. It caused the poor fruit to explode and shower the nearest diners, Lily Evans and a gaggle of other Gryffindor girls, with globs of liquefied fruit. Pettigrew turned white as he heard the girls shriek, while Black and James Potter laughed uncontrollably.

"Those insipid dim-witted fools," Severus hissed through his teeth. "They are constantly causing trouble, yet they answer to no ones authority but their own. One of these days I will find a way to get them to answer for their crimes. Hopefully in a very painful and publicly humiliating way." Severus grinned maliciously, gave the Gryffindor bunch one last petrifying glare, and continued to read.

Lyca nodded agreeably, but her mind was fixed on other things than the boyish pranks of a few Gryffindors. There was only one Gryffindor who could ever catch and hold her attention. Her eyes were transfixed on him. To Lyca, Remus Lupin was a fascinating enigma, one that she could study meticulously for hours and never tire of. Thin shoulder length brown hair framed a thin pale face. Scars marred his smooth cheeks, hands, and arms. He seemed so lonely and forlorn amongst his boisterous friends. He didn't even laugh as Pettigrew fell off his bench and scrambled over to Evans to apologize. He merely smiled and nodded, then turned his head back to his food. He had a pensive, detached look in his eyes. Like his mind were a hundred miles and dozens of years away from his actual body.

Suddenly Remus looked up from his plate and caught her gaze. Lyca's breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat. It was as if he sensed her eyes on him. Their eyes were locked together for what seemed like an eternity. Both felt the other one's longing. She wanted him and he wanted her, but this relationship was even more impossible than breaking off her engagement with Severus. She was a pureblood and he was a mudblood; neither her parents nor their Houses would approve.

Potter said something to Remus, which forced him to break their eye contact. All four Gryffindor boys leaned into a huddle and had a private heated discussion. Remus nodded grimly, collected his belongings, and walked towards the Dining Hall exit. This confused Lyca, as classes didn't start for another half an hour, and these four Gryffindors always went to class together. She didn't know why, but she knew that he was in trouble somehow. She was going to help him in any way that she could, but first she had to find out what the problem was. A light went off somewhere in Lyca's head; this must have something to do with why he liked to disappear every month, and reappear three days later looking more tired and besotted than he had before. Lyca was determined to figure out what this all meant, and once she started something she always saw it through. She was drawn to Remus like a moth to a flame. She just prayed that she didn't get burned.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Remus tried to leave the Dining Hall as quietly and inconspicuously as possible. He had to head back to the Boy's Dormitory to prepare the food and supplies they would need for their night in the Shrieking Shack. James should have done all this last night before going to bed, but Quidditch practice had run late again due to Gryffindor's impending match against Hufflepuff, and he barely made it into bed before passing out. They huddled close and debated who should go back to the dormitory and do it. They couldn't wait until later, because then the rooms would be crowded with too many of their curious fellow Gryffindors. Neither James nor Sirius could afford to be late to Transfiguration again, and Peter was bound to forget something important, so the task fell to Remus.

Nodding his head in silent agreement, Remus collected his belongings and began making his way back to the dormitory. He desperately tried to keep his mind on the task at hand, but images of smooth skin and long hair continued to disturb his concentration.

With a silent burst of courage and determination, Lyca proclaimed a dire need to use the bathroom, and she excused herself from a rather one-sided conversation Severus was having with her about Chinese anise. She collected her books and rushed out the main doors to catch up with Remus.

Excitement and anticipation coursed violently through her veins, causing the blood to pound in her temples. She was desperate to have a real conversation with him; one that didn't involve Severus scowling at him and his friends or Sirius making lewd comments about her chest. This might be the only chance she had to get him alone for the rest of the term.

Lyca finally caught up with Remus at the top of the stairs leading out of the Great Hall. She had planned on tapping on his shoulder gently to get his attention, but as she reached out to touch him her foot caught on the top step and she went sprawling forward. With a loud thud her face made contact with the floor; her books and quills littered the lush carpeted floor. She moaned in frustration and humiliation. Figures, she thought. Of all the times I had to make a complete ass out of myself…

Remus jumped, startled by the sudden noise behind him, and whirled around to try and discover the source of the sound. At first he saw nothing, but another queer sound caught his attention, and his gaze dropped to a slender figure at his feet.

His breath caught in his throat, and he stared at Lyca in wonder and disbelief. Lyca Frost was the girl of his dreams. She was the only girl he had ever allowed himself to pine for. She was smart, attractive, and the only girl at Hogwarts audacious enough to outdo Sirius in a battle of insults and invectives. Her long black hair was slightly disheveled, and her normally pale face was tinged pink. Her skirt and robes were fanned out to reveal wiry legs and delicate ankles. Remus squirmed slightly and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. To have her here before him, especially in such a compromising position, was beyond all of his wildest fantasies. He felt a tightening in his pants that he was desperately trying to ignore.

When he finally regained his bearing, he moved to help Lyca collect her books and inkbottles, which had scattered in all directions. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Do I look alright you dolt," Lyca snapped at him. Remus frowned and she winced at the harshness of her own words. She couldn't help it; she was embarrassed! She began to stammer an apology, but Remus stopped her.

"It's alright," he said. "I understand." Their hands touched when he returned her books. Remus allowed his hands to linger and caress the soft flesh of her fingers, grasping them tightly in his own. Once again their eyes met, and any words Lyca planned to say dissolved into nothingness. 

"Thank you," Lyca whispered. This appreciating gesture was all the prompting Remus needed. His hand moved to caress her cheek; his fingers twined in her hair and his thumb ran over her lips. He knew that she liked him the way he did her. There was an inexplicable bond between them that neither could qualify nor understand, but they didn't care. All that mattered was their eyes, their hands, and their hearts. Lyca closed her eyes as Remus inclined his head to bring his lips down on hers. They met for one warm, wonderful instant, but fled quickly with the sound of movement from the Great Hall. Lyca glared angrily in the direction of the door, chastising it for the interruption. Remus dropped his hand and marched quickly down the corridor without another glance.

Lyca stood at the top of the stairs for a moment longer, thinking pleasant thoughts that made her heart beat faster and the blood rush to her cheeks. Once she regained her composure, she mentally kicked herself for not really 'talking' to Remus and stomped back towards the Great Hall, where she would meet Severus before Herbology.

She expected to find Severus serenely propped up against a wall or door, preparing some new quip regarding her extended trip to the 'bathroom' with her schoolbooks. Instead she came face to face with a flushed and angry Severus; fists clenched, teeth bared, and cold dark eyes glaring at a rather haughty-looking Sirius Black.

Lyca quickly concealed herself behind the nearest suit of armor. She knew enough about Severus not to interfere when he got into a confrontation. He felt that taking a beating was more honorable that accepting help in a fight, and was inclined to bite off her head if she interrupted.

"Oh Snivelly," Sirius taunted, circling Severus like a vulture. "Want to come on a little midnight stroll with me and my buddies? It's the full moon. You can find out exactly what we've really been up to."

Severus didn't reply; his face remained an emotionless mask, effectively guarding his thoughts. Sirius closed the gap between them in one long step, bringing their noses mere centimeters from touching. "How about it Snivellous? Wanna play?"

Severus still didn't reply. He continued to hold his gaze level with Sirius's eyes. Lyca could see that Severus was really itching to give Sirius a good square punch in the jaw, but his desire to get some serious dirt on his archenemies kept his anger in check. The corner of his mouth twitched, revealing a sharp-toothed grin. In a smooth, sonorous voice he replied, "I'll meet you at eleven o'clock by the Library entrance."

"Alright then," Sirius said as he clapped Severus roughly on the back. "Lookin' foward to it." With his hands in his pockets and a devilish smile, Sirius walked away, leaving Severus standing in the middle of the Great Hall. 

Lyca removed herself from her hiding place and rushed toward to Severus. "Don't even think about it," he said before she even uttered a word. He had a bad habit of doing that; knowing what she was going to say before she did. Normally this would annoy her, but she was too excited to be bothered by it.

"What?" she demanded. "I didn't say anyth-" Lyca was cut off mid-sentence by Severus abruptly grabbing her shoulders. She was momentarily lost in the dark tunnels of his eyes. There was so much pain there; pains that he didn't even allow her to understand. "I want to come with you," she whispered.

"You are not coming with me, "he yelled, his voice filling the room and shaking her down to her very core. "Do you understand?" Lyca nodded meekly, refusing to meet his eyes. "I want you to promise me that you won't go."

"You want me to what?" 

"Promise me you won't come."

"That is the most ridicul-"

"Just do it!" He shook her a little bit for emphasis. Lyca knew that there was no way of getting out of this; Severus was, like her, analogous to a pit bull in that he never let go once he got an idea stuck in his head.

She reluctantly gave him the oath he was looking for, and angrily walked towards the greenhouses. She knew she was being rude, just turning her back and leaving Severus standing alone like that. She really was no better than Sirius, she thought. What felt even worse was the fact that she knew she had made that promise with no intention to actually keep it. And Lyca felt Severus knew in his heart the same.

Sirius had said 'me and my buddies'. That meant that wherever Sirius planned to take Severus tonight, Remus was bound to be there too. A plan was already formulating itself in her head. She would stake out the entrance to the Gryffindor Dormitory tonight starting around 9 o'clock. Nobody would be able to leave without alerting her as they went by.

Lyca smiled at the simple genius of her plan. She was determined to find out everything tonight, or at least die trying.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Remus looked like a caged animal. He paced restlessly back and forth in the Shrieking Shack; anger, resentment, and fear evident in every step. He compulsively licked his lips as his eyes darted around the room like dragonflies. He had long since removed his shirt and slacks, causing sweat to bead and drip down his bare, wiry chest to the dirt-covered floor. (He couldn't afford to bring more attention to himself by having the House elves fruitlessly try to mend diced clothing). Backing himself into a dark, drafty corner, Remus sat quietly on his hunches. His watch said 10:50 PM. James, Sirius, and Peter would be around here shortly. And so would the wolf. 

"Shouldn't be long now," Remus inhaled sharply. "Let's just get this over with." The moon was hidden behind a patch of gray clouds. He could feel the wolf nudging and pawing at the edge of his consciousness, keenly waiting for release as pale streams of silver moonlight filtered through the tattered curtains.

He hated himself. He hated himself for being weak; for giving into the animal part of him that was tearing away at his insides. He wanted to be strong; he wanted to fight it; he wanted to be normal. Remus kicked, and screamed, and yelled with the primal, frustrated fury of a desperate man at the brink of despair. He cursed himself and his abominable existence as a creature that no one could love. The thought of killing himself and ending his suffering flashed across his mind like a bolt of lightening. What did he have to live for anyway? Lyca.

Remus sighed, gripping a loose piece of broken wood tightly with both hands. He knuckles turned white and his palms began to bleed. He didn't care. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the memories of Lyca that drifted languidly in and out of his mind: the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, her soft fingers caressing the back of his neck, her crystal eyes staring at him with the same hope and desire he desperately felt. Then he opened his eyes and reality came crashing down on him like the weight of a Hungarian Horntail.

He didn't deserve her. You didn't deserve that kiss either, he thought to himself. But that didn't stop you from liking it. He threw the bloodied piece of wood across the room; as if throwing it away would rid him of Lyca's scent. She was everywhere: her essence permeated the shack like it filled the gaping hole in his heart. "Go away," he whispered, fighting back a flood of tears. "Please. It's easier to be alone."

The full moon broke through the clouds with a silent vengeance. Remus gasped as an unseen force punched him in the gut. Remus doubled-over in pain, barking and growling in an indecipherable language of teeth and blood. His legs and spine twisted and elongated in unnatural ways, causing him rest on all fours. The skin on his hands and feet had hardened into padded soles, and thick claws the size of Snidgets protruded from his fingertips. His jaw widened exponentially, revealing rows of jagged teeth dripping with spit. Sinew and bone stretched and grew to immense proportions, and hair sprouted like weeds from tough, gray skin.

The pupils of his yellow eyes narrowed into slits, and he sniffed the air with a ferocious hunger. Sights and sounds he never even imagined as a human invaded his senses. He could hear the sound a heart beating wildly: a hummingbird trapped in a ribcage. Surprised…something here…apples and cinnamon…animal…blood, sweat, and tears…it's scared…I'm HUNGRY. Wolf-Remus advanced on the poor, defenseless creature, and was satisfied as teeth met bone and it wriggled in pain and fear.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Remus awoke with an intense hangover. This didn't really surprise him, as it was a common side effect of his werewolf transformation, but that didn't make the sensation any less unbearable. He felt as if he had challenged Hagrid to a drinking contest. Still, a Firewhisky hangover was nothing compared to the throbbing he felt in between his temples. 

It took Remus a few minutes to clear his head and get his bearings. He was indubitably baffled by his surroundings. What was he doing in the Hospital Wing? Remus always woke up from his werewolf torpor in the drafty confines of the Shrieking Shack. If he had seriously injured himself during the course of the night, he was to see either Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore for treatment immediately. So what was he doing already bandaged and resting comfortably in a hospital bed?

Two very angry, pale-faced adults were storming out of the room; the latter of which threw a livid glare at Remus before exiting. If looks could kill consistently, Remus was sure he would have collapsed then and there from the woman's icy stare. 

After realizing that his friend had regained consciousness, James rose from his seat at the foot of Remus's bed and said, "Madam Pomfrey says you're well enough to leave. And Dumbledore suggested that you stay in the dormitory for the rest of the day. You can resume classes tomorrow."

Remus nodded silently. He was still too disoriented to formulate an adequate verbal response, let alone ask any questions regarding his curious state of awakening. Wearily, he sat up and put on the set of robes currently draped over his bedside chair. With Remus using James as a crutch, the two Gryffindor boys bid a short goodbye to Madam Pomfrey, and slowly made their way out of the hospital wing. Remus looked back just in time to see Dumbledore throw him a weak smile, and sullenly bend over a concealed someone in a nearby hospital bed.

They continued to walk up and down the winding and seemingly deserted corridors of Hogwarts. Twice James inhaled sharply and moved his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't find the necessary words. Remus stopped mid-step when James persisted with that same motion for the third time. Depraved of the opportunity to walk, James shifted anxiously from one foot to another. For the first time in years he seemed unable to look Remus in the face.

"Obviously you have something to tell me, Prongs," Remus said, placing a comforting hand on his friends shoulder. "And the carpet can't be _that_ interesting, so just come out with it." James continued to stare at the floor, fidgeting with his hands.

"Look Moony," he began, "You...you..."

"What about me?" Remus prodded, disturbed by James's uncharacteristically nervous behavior.

"Damn it!" James erupted in a cloud of anger and frustration. "I could kill Sirius from trying to bring Snape down to you!"

Remus gasped, "What!" 

James wiped his face in a defeated motion, and finally spoke to Remus face-to-face. There was a confusing, unspoken apology in his eyes. "Moony, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but..." he paused; a poor stratagem in an already lost battle over the control of his voice. "You bit someone last night."

Remus was in shock. Whatever messily shade that gave his skin color evaporated, and Remus had to swallow hard in order to quench his suddenly parched throat. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He turned around and braced himself on the nearest wall. The horrible news seemed to engulf him like a black shroud; his worst nightmare had come true. He had given the curse to someone else... 

"Merlin's beard," Remus swore under his breath. "I wouldn't have wished this on anyone...not even Snape."

"It wasn't me, asshole!" replied a sickeningly familiar voice.

Remus turned his head sharply, only to have Snape's fist make firm, undeniable contact with his jaw. Snape moved quickly, grabbing Remus by the collar and slamming him into the wall. Remus heard his head connect with the wall with a nauseating crunch. James pulled Snape off promptly enough, and would probably have continued to beat the shit out of him, if James hadn't ordered him to stop. James eyed Snape cautiously, letting him go with a galled reluctance. His hand itched for his wand as he made his way over to Remus's side, prepared to back his friend up if necessary.

"I'm sorry," was all Remus managed to say.

"Like I said," Snape snarled in response. "It wasn't me. I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"I don't understand," Remus said, rubbing his jaw. "If it wasn't you, than who could it ha--" Remus closed his eyes as he was hit with another wave of nausea; the name of his unknown victim made its way up through the recesses of his subconscious. A human heart...beating fast, like the wings of a hummingbird...black hair...the metallic taste of blood...a young girl screaming... "Lyca," Remus whispered and collapsed on the floor. He felt hollow inside, as if he had just received the Dementor's Kiss. Remus buried his head in his hands, wishing away the unwanted tastes and the sounds that overwhelmed his senses.

Somewhere deep inside of him, Remus found the courage and fortitude to meet Snape's malevolent gaze. He tried to form an apology, but soon discovered that there were no words that could convey the unfathomable remorse and self-loathing he felt at that moment.

Snape knelt down so his eyes were level with Remus's own. "This is entirely your fault," he hissed. "I swear, you will pay for what you did to her. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will make sure that you NEVER have a moments peace."

Remus noted the bloodshot eyes and dark bags that marred Snape's otherwise immaculately pale face. His heart wrenched with the realization that Snape mourned the loss of Lyca as intensely and genuinely as he did. Snape straightened his back, and shot the same Medusa-like stare at James before departing abruptly, his robes billowing out in an enraged swarm.

Remus tried to stand, but found his legs unable to support him. James caught him as his legs buckled, and somehow managed to drag Remus's semi-conscious body the rest of the way to the Gryffindor Tower, where Remus blindly found his way to his four-poster bed. James left without saying a word; sure that anything he said would only make things worse. 

Remus tried to put Lyca out of his mind; to tell himself that it wasn't his fault and that everything would be all right. Nothing could shake the horrible feeling of guilt and disgust that had invaded his psyche. I don't deserve to live, Remus thought to himself. But you will live, said another, more sinister voice inside of him. You will live with the knowledge of what you did to the girl you love, and you will die miserable and alone. Remus cried himself to sleep, where Lyca's innocent shriek haunted his dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Lyca didn't want to wake up; sleep was too good. Here, there was no fear, no pain, no lies, and no would-be boyfriends transforming into monsters with big teeth and foxfire eyes. Here, in the void of her unconsciousness, there was only darkness. It engulfed her in blissful nothingness; an aspersing inundation of life and limb. She felt weightless, as if she was floating in this inky chasm, which refreshed her body and renewed her spirit. Here, she was finally at peace.

But the feeling was too good to last. The forgiving abyss of sleep disseminated, and Lyca grudgingly felt the weight of her body descend on her in full force. She awoke feeling groggy and sick. Lyca tried to sit up, but her frail, exhausted arms collapsed under her weight. Her stomach was tied in a sailor's knot, and the throbbing pain in her calf was almost too much to bear.

Resigned to propping herself up on a pillow, Lyca rubbed her eyes, and took in her new surroundings. She was lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing, concealed by a large, white curtain. She shifted her body in an attempt to see around it, but the increasing discomfort in her leg hindered her efforts. Lyca lifted the covers and shuddered at the dirty legs and blood-soaked bandages she discovered there.

Memories of her near-death, moonlit excursion repeatedly beat against her brain in merciless waves. Her breathing came hard and fast, with each breath raking through her lungs like dry fire. She wiped the beads of cold sweat off her face, forcing deep and steady breathing, in a desperate attempt to stop herself from hyperventilating.

A potential cascade of salty tears welled up in her eyes as she turned to watch a man with a long, silver beard, and half-moon glasses approach her from the opposite side of the curtain. Dumbledore paused at the foot of her bed a particularly sad expression dominating his customarily cheerful face.

"How…bad…is it…Professor?" Lyca asked, choking back sobs.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he replied as he motioned to her affected leg. "You know, as well as I do, that there is nothing we can do to stop this."

Lyca buried her face in her hands; tears slipping silently down her dirt-smudged cheeks. But somehow, despite everything that had happed to her in the past 24 hours, Lyca laughed, and swiped those tears away as quickly as they came. She lifted her head; her blue-purple eyes shining like crystals behind a wall of unshed tears.

"I guess it could be worse," she said with a painful grin. "I could be dead!"

Dumbledore returned Lyca's melancholy smile, coming closer to wrap her in a grizzly hug. "Everything will be alright," he said, with enough confidence for the both of them. Lyca buried her face in his beard, immersing herself in the reassuring smells of treacle fudge and pumpkin juice.

This delicate repose was shattered as two tall, pale-faced adults burst through the hospital doors. They had not taken more than half a dozen steps into the room before exploding in a fit of indignation and outrage.

"You stupid, muggle-loving git," bellowed Mr. Frost at the infuriatingly unfazed Headmaster. "How could you let such a dangerous and disturbing creature anywhere near the castle grounds, let alone allowing it to live and learn here?"

Lyca desperately wanted to defend herself, and (to her surprise) the 'dangerous and disturbing creature' that her father was referring to. It wasn't his fault after all, she thought. I was the one snooping around where I didn't belong…Remus will probably hate me when he finds out what I've done. Despite everything that had happened to her, Lyca still felt the same warm, tender feelings for Remus that she had felt that morning when he kissed her. She still loved him, now more than ever, because she understood him better than anyone.

Lyca opened her mouth to speak, but a cold, hard frown from her mother silenced her. (What Mrs. Frost lacked in words, she made up for in confidence, intimidation, and a vicious backhand slap). She bit her lip to keep herself from yelling back at them, and from defending her school and the people she had come to love and respect. Arguing (especially with her parents) would solve nothing. Besides, if she said something now than they would be sure to make her pay for it later in welts. She had barely survived the previous night's ordeal, and she wasn't about to lose it over a bunch of prejudicial, pureblood objections.

Finally, after listening to Mr. Frost's 10 minute tirade (and Mrs. Frost's subsequent back-biting) about how Hogwarts was going to Hades in a hand basket, Dumbledore calmly replied, "I need to speak with Lyca privately, and if you could please lower your voices, that would be much appreciated by Madame Pomfrey, and the rest of her patients." (Lyca could have kissed the Headmaster for the ensuing looks of ignominy and chagrin that appeared on her parents' faces.)

The Frosts departed with an angry and thoroughly exasperated glare. Mr. Frost's voice rang clearly through the hall as he said; "I knew we should have sent her to Durmstrang!" Mrs. Frost nodded in agreement, glowering at an unseen patient in the bed near the door. 

Dumbledore smiled meekly then turned his attention back to Lyca. "You must leave this afternoon," he informed her. "I'm sorry, but Hogwarts doesn't have the capacity to handle two…" Dumbledore lowered his voice, "…Werewolf students, and I cannot, in good conscience and within the confines of Wizard Law, disobey your parents' request to have you withdrawn from the school roster. There is no cure for the condition, as I am sure you already know, and discrimination is always an issue. For your safety, as well as that of Remus and the others, tell no one where you are going. Say goodbye to no one; that includes Severus Snape." Dumbledore (undoubtedly feeling responsible for the entire incident, as well as just being the gentle, kind-hearted man that he is) offered his services should Lyca ever need them, and promised to keep in touch. And giving Lyca's shoulder a concluding squeeze, he strolled towards the Nurse's station and out the double doors.

Lyca just sat there, alone and afraid in her hospital bed. She was alarmed by Dumbledore's words, and petrified by the sudden realization that her life would never be the same. She would probably never see Remus or possibly even Severus, ever again. She couldn't even say goodbye to Remus, and let him know that she didn't blame him for what had happened to her. She still loved him with all her heart and soul, and would continue to do so for the rest of her life.

She couldn't even tell Severus where she was going, and he was sure to be livid once he discovered that she's missing at breakfast. She could expect a letter filled with foul smelling mold, or maybe even a Howler or two, once she got home. She would have A LOT of explaining to do…but wait, she couldn't even do that. If word got out that Remus was a werewolf attending Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that he had bitten a fellow student (no matter what the circumstances), Dumbledore would be fired, and at best, Remus would be ostracized from the Wizarding world. A more probable conclusion would be his untimely death at the hands of some very, very angry men from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature. No, better that no one know what had happened. She would suffer knowing the events of this night alone, her knowledge: preserving the Snape and Frost family honor, and keeping her beloved Remus safe from the intolerant wands of the magical world. She would be strong for everyone. She was a Slytherin, after all, and keeping secrets was part of the job description.

Somehow Lyca found the strength to march up to her deserted dormitory. She didn't even have the time or the energy to cry as her parents ordered the Hogwarts House Elves to pack her trunks for her. She hid her emotions behind her blue-purple-colored eyes. It was as if she wasn't even in her own body. She was a ghost, like Peeves or the Bloody Baron, content to watch as the world and its mortal inhabitants moved frantically about her. No matter what her parents did or said to her that night, she would keep that same blank, emotionless stare. She would prove, once and for all, that she could be just as angry, unfeeling, and stubborn as her own parents. She wasn't going to be pushed around by them any longer.

Lyca was quite aware of the sound of their voices, yelling and screaming like harpies; quite aware of their pale, incensed faces arrogant sneers, leering at her in the darkness of their estate; quite aware of the beatings she received from her mother's hand and her father's wand. But she never flinched nor uttered a sound. She kept that face when they snapped her wand; when they canceled her engagement to Severus; when they disowned her; when they threw her out into the streets; and when she set off into the cool darkness, wondering where she was going to spend the night.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Not much had happened to Remus since Lyca disappeared after being bitten last year. During the course of his 7th year at school, Lily and James got very serious, and Remus found himself making distance between his normal happy friends, and the broody inner-self that he cultivated in secret.

James surprised the entire population of Hogwarts by purposing to Lily during the end of the year banquet. Everyone clapped and cheered loudly for the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and a gaggle of Lily's friends ran up to hug and congratulate her. Sirius tired to make some very profound remarks on the subject, subsequently sending Peter into a fit of uncontrollable hysterics. Remus clapped and joined in on the fun, but he felt very disconnected from the happiness that radiated from the Great Hall.

After some of the excitement had died down (and Lily had shared some very passionate kisses with James) everyone ate and conversed jovially. The conversations around the Gryffindor table ranged from possible careers, to plans for the summer holiday, and (inevitably) to the entertainment options available for James's bachelor party (proposed by Sirius obviously). Remus had a hard time swallowing for a moment. He imagined how his friends and classmates would have an easy time procuring and maintaining their jobs. This wasn't school anymore; he couldn't hide in the Shrieking Shack with Dumbledore watching his back any longer. _This is the real world_, Remus thought to himself as images of rejection and failure filled his head. He would never be able to make enough money. A horrible pang of longing hit Remus as he thought of all things he had wanted to give Lyca before _the incident_, a family, a beautiful house, money. How could he even _think_ of such wonderful things, when not only did not deserve them, but he would probably never have an enough money to support himself. Let alone a family and a house. His deformity was causing him so much grief. Suicide always nagged at the back of Remus's mind, causing him to pace back and forth in his dormitory room late at night, especially when he was nervous or upset. He had even taken to drinking in secret (a habit which he was not especially proud of); partly to numb the pangs of his guilt, and partly to allow himself to sleep without experiencing the same cold, vicious nightmares again and again.

Remus watched Sirius's newly transfigured schoolbooks scuttle away as frightened mice and lizards, and chuckled despite himself. Suicide was the easy way out. Killing himself meant admitting to the rest of the world that he couldn't handle the challenges life had dealt him. Suicide meant that he was weak; that he was still that same terrified little boy who could do nothing but trip and fall. Then and there, amidst the horrified squeals of the Hogwarts's girls, Remus silently vowed never to retreat to those bad habits ever again.

The Potters' wedding was held in the spring, and, of course, Sirius was the best man. It was a simple wedding; only a few close family and friends were invited (most of James' family was dead, and Lily's sister, although invited, chose not to attend or even RSVP for that matter). Lily and James were elated, and with no surprise Lily was pregnant in November.

Then the Potters went into hiding...


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Remus watched calmly as the giant, silvery-blue orb of the full moon rose over the horizon. He had long since removed his clothing; content with the gentle breezes that caressed his soon-to-be-fur-covered skin. He inhaled deeply, taking in the wet ash and pine smells that permeated the air around him. He wasn't worried about intruders. He had chosen a secluded enough spot in the middle of a densely wooded park. Most of the trees had already begun to change, leaving a wake of acrylic red, yellow, and orange colored leaves. Remus gasped as he felt the wolf-change take hold of him again. There was nothing in the world he could do to stop it from happening. He was used to this now; he accepted it. He let his human mind merge with the bestial phantom that haunted his psyche. It didn't matter right now. His friends were safe now...Voldemort can't find them...and he, Remus Lupin, couldn't hurt anyone...that's all that mattered...

Despite the underlying feel of melancholy apprehension, the Potter house was bright and festive. Lily had just placed a warm dinner on the kitchen table, and went off to fetch Harry from the nursery. James poured some aged wine, and, with a sly grin, dipped his forefinger into the nearby pumpkin pudding. Lily reentered with a small, squirmy, and giggling Harry in her arms; causing James to quickly stuff the sticky, sweet-pudding-covered finger into his mouth. The Potter family sat down to dinner, and toasted to Halloween as a soft breeze picked up the fallen autumn leaves, and the trees rustled in the wind outside the small-unseen cottage...

Wolf-Remus let out a blood-curdling howl and dashed into the thicket. He stalked between trees and around bushes, searching for something to hunt. So far his hunt was unsuccessful. _No blood. No meat. Hungry, _Wolf-Remus thought to himself (if you could truly call it 'thinking'). He growled at the cold night air, inhaled deeply, and sneezed. Suddenly, Wolf-Remus broke out into a heavy run, in hot pursuit of a solitary, ill-fated rabbit. He watched as his prey took its final misty breath, and snapped its neck like a twig. The stench of blood silently filtered through the early fog and into the chilly night air...

A tall, dark figure appeared in the small town as a breeze took up the many colored leaves. Most of the cottage lights were already out, as people were trying to discourage the various groups of roaming children from knocking on their doors to request sweets. This sinister looking man placed a long, thin hand on a low hanging sign with red paint and gold lettering. He scanned the rows of small houses, and smirked when the narrow, red slits of his eyes locked on an unseen dwelling, with a dozen or so flickering candles in the window. It was the only house on the entire block that was shrouded in spells for protection and invisibility. Voldemort began to advance on his prey; leaving the small, hanging sign that read _Godric Hollow_ to creak and swing in the now distant breeze...

Wolf-Remus devoured the rabbit with feral intensity, and began to sniff around for more food. Loud growls and snarls (that were not his own) met his sensitive ears. Wolf-Remus froze where he stood; his ferine mind recognized the sound of another dire wolf when he heard it. _Predator. My territory. Challenger, _Wolf-Remus thought. It took him two seconds to decide what to do, and without another moments hesitation he pounced on his would-be contender._ DIE..._

Harry sat giggling in his high chair, taking mushy handfuls of squash and pumpkin from his small bowl into his mouth. Most of the food ended up on his clothing, and a great deal of it landed on the floor. James chuckled as Lily tried to clean Harry off, her hands and arms becoming smeared with vegetable juice in the process. Harry continued to make his playful mess, but Lily just smiled and threw a sideways look at James.

"Just like your father," she said. "Always misbehaving."

James winked and put his hand over Lily's free one. At that moment, a strange, new feeling tugged deeply at James's heartstrings. His face must have showed it, because Lily looked at him curiously and frowned.

"What's the matter, James?" she asked. The concern in his wife's voice quickly brought James out of his daze. He smiled gently and reassured Lily that nothing was wrong. His answer seemed to satisfy his wife, as she went back to the impossible task of getting Harry to eat his food in a some-what dignified manner. But the feeling James had slithered from the center of chest, into the pit of his stomach, where it continued to gnaw at his insides. He pushed his plate of un-eaten food aside: he was no longer hungry...

The Dark Lord slunk along the cobble stone path; his red eyes darting every which way. His loyal (if somewhat thick and annoying) young servant, Wormtail, trailed behind him like a hamstrung dog. He would have liked to avoid bringing the buffoon along, but (unfortunately) he was crucial to getting his revenge on this particular family: on the family who had already defied him three times. Voldemort was going to make sure they did not succeed in doing so ever again...

James tried to laugh off the feeling: tried to act like everything was normal. He took over spoon-feeding Harry while Lily cleared the table by hand. She didn't mind, really, as she had done so for years before becoming a witch. The Potters didn't use magic or wear magical clothing while they were in hiding, just in case they were being spied on. Although they looked and acted like Muggles, James always kept his wand handy, just in case...

Wolf-Remus seized upon the snarling creature. He felt his teeth meet tough flesh, and reveled in the taste of fur and strong blood. Its pain-induced yelps sent him into an uncontrollable frenzy: he bit, clawed, and tackled the challenger into submission. It lay in a furry lump on the patch of grass in front of him. He threw his head back and howled, declaring his victory. It was a moment of wolfish pride, and a very foolish move on Wolf-Remus's part, as the other were-creature took this opportunity to regroup and attack...

James turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm up. It was his turn to do the dishes, but the sound of Harry squealing joyfully in the next room distracted him from his appointed task.

Harry had just laughed, splashed, and giggled his way through a much-needed bath; getting his mother thoroughly soaked in the process. Now, he was playing contently on the living room floor; a small, stuffed hippogriff clutched firmly in both hands. Lily sat on the floor next to him (blissfully dry - thanks to a quick change of clothing), gently stroking the wisps of black curls that sprang from his head.

"You're going to look just like your father," she cooed and planted a kiss on his forehead.

James came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close. She leaned into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder as he lightly kissed the nape of her neck.

"Well, I thought about it Lily," he declared nobly. "And I think it would be nice if we had more children."

Lily smiled - not missing the husky quality of her husband's voice - and turned to face him. "I am NOT giving birth in the Room of Requirements again," she replied with a quick glance in Harry's direction. "Besides, I think we should wait until we can come out of hiding. It isn't really safe for any of us right now."

James frowned; feeling slightly rejected. Godric Hollow was a small, peaceful kind of town, and he didn't mind the concept of raising a family here. (His kids would liven the place up in no time)! James began to wish that he hadn't brought up the subject, when his mind became otherwise occupied with the feeling of Lily pressing her lips firmly against his. _Now that's more like it,_ James thought to himself. However, their avid embrace was cut short by a very loud (and very adorable) yawn from Harry, who had curled up on the floor, using his stuffed hippogriff as a pillow. It was way passed Harry's bedtime...

Wolf-Remus broke apart from his adversary; his shoulder and right foreleg were bleeding heavily. He was standing down wind of his opponent; smelling sweat, blood, and some other unknown scent that made his muscles twitch and his heart race. The creature obviously hadn't faired any better than him during their scuffle. It was tired and hungry; he was bigger and still high off the death of his prey. Wolf-Remus glared at contestant; a rich, full-toned growl resonating from deep within his throat...

Voldemort hissed a low incantation and ordered his servant to stay behind. The candles by the living room window, as if sensing his evil presence, extinguished themselves, and the hairs on the back of James's neck stood on end. Within seconds, the cheery Potter dwelling was transformed into a cold, dark tomb.

James whirled around, brandishing his wand at the tall, hooded figure with red slits for eyes. He yelled a rough warning to Lily, who quickly scooped up the now-wailing Harry and dashed towards the bedrooms. James proceeded to rattle off every curse, charm, and hex he had ever learned – from the Conjunctivitis Curse to a Full Body Bind – and to no avail.

"Protego," The Dark Lord replied, knocking each spell away as if they were Billywigs. And before James could utter another incantation, the Dark Lord cried, "Avada Kedavra," and a flash of bright green light hit him squarely in the chest. He collapsed on the hard wooden floor with a stark, earth-shattering thud.

Voldemort's cruel, high-pitched laugh rang out eerily though the house as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen: his ample dark robes muffled his steps and gave him the appearance of gliding across the floor. He took his time taking in the little things: family pictures on the wall, unwashed dishes in the sink, a dirty baby bib, and the various toys that littered the floor. Voldemort knelt down and picked up a small, white baby rattle with little, yellow lightening bolts painted on it. He smirked and crushed it in one hand before continuing through the cottage ranch. He strolled through the hallway; savoring each moment. Finally, he was going to put an end to this silly, prophecy nonsense...

Wolf-Remus and the she-wolf grappled and fought on their hind legs; snarling, growling, and biting deep into the other's skin; weaving in and out of each other's attack line. With all of their spinning and twirling, it looked as if they were dancing...

The Dark Lord discovered a closed door at the end of the hallway. He could hear the Potter-girl whispering through heavy sobs and large tears. Most of what he heard was indecipherable babbling; he could only make out one word – 'love'…

Wolf-Remus and the she-wolf danced to a slower tune. They still bit and snarled as they clung to each other, but the long night hours were getting the better of them. They were loosing their strength; their movements became pulsated and erratic.

Eventually they fell to the ground, where Wolf-Remus pinned the unnamed werewolf on her back. He continued to nip at her muzzle as he pushed down hard on her wriggling form. The she-wolf howled in pain, or was it pleasure? When it was all over, the two werewolves, exhausted from their nightlong ordeal, curled up against each other, and fell asleep. It was a strange end to an even stranger battle…

It only took Voldemort a few seconds to get passed the Colloportus Charm that held the door shut. Once inside he discovered Lily standing defiantly in the middle of the nursery, directly between him and the ultimate prize – Harry Potter. He raised his wand at Lily's face and grinned manically. He offered to spare her life, if only she would give him the child. Lily refused point-blank; refusing to relinquish her position in between her son and Dark Lord. Confronted by this blatant disobedience, Voldemort struck her with an Unforgivable Curse. Lily's body crumpled to the floor, where she died with the name "Harry" still on her lips.

Voldemort turned to glare down at the helpless child, crying out for his mother from the crib. He snickered at the very notion of this fidgety, pink worm ever becoming strong enough to defy him. He had triumphed over the boy's parents, and now he would slaughter the son; securing his place as the most powerful wizard who ever lived. Voldemort leveled his wand at Harry's face, spoke the Killing Curse, and waited for the inevitable…

The cold night air went deep into Wolf-Remus's bones, but he didn't care. This savage being didn't know the difference between friend, food, or foe. All it knew was that it went to sleep happily exhausted that night next to its mate, under the eerie light of the Hunter's Moon…

The brilliant green light of the Unforgivable Curse hit Harry directly on the forehead. A spell that powerful at that close of a range should have disintegrated his tiny, baby body. But that night something amazing happened; something that would change the course of Wizard History forever; something that would earn Harry the fame and gratitude of nearly every wizarding family in the world; something that would earn him the name: The Boy Who Lived.

No sooner had Voldemort uttered the words "Avada Kedavra," than the Curse rebounded upon him. The Dark Lord's merciless laugh and billowing robes transformed into wind and a pile of dark cloth, and, remarkably, the Potter child had remained virtually untouched. A few moments of profound silence passed before Harry started to cry again, and blood trickled down his face from a thin, lightening bolt cut on his forehead...


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A dense, humid fog obscured the full moon as it began to set beyond the horizon. A thick, silver haze had descended over the grass and trees, causing dozens of playful, young shadows to dart among the many-colored leaves. The ground was warm and moist, mingling the damp, earthy smells of the woodlands with sweat, pheromones, and the slightly metallic tang of blood. Remus yawned complacently; eyes half shut in drowsy satisfaction. He was far too comfortable to even think about getting up just yet. _Five more minutes_, Remus thought to himself and buried his head deeper into his soft, wiggling pillow...wait a minute; what pillow?

Not even an extra large bucket of ice water could have jarred Remus into consciousness as quickly and as effectively as that one little word did. His eyes burst open in acute awareness. What in the world was he doing with a pillow in the middle of a park? Let alone one that twisted and moved as if it were alive? Remus was stunned (to say the least) and continued to lie still in the tall grass, completely at a loss of what to do. Somehow, his wolfish romp in the thicket had caused him to spoon a very slender, very dirty person. A woman?

Remus frowned. Had she been hurt while his conscious self was incapacitated? No. He knew the creature in his arms was alive; he could hear her breathing, and felt her mud-caked chest rise and fall in his arms. How did they get here? Why was she still here? He wracked his brains for an answer, but received only fuzzy, disjointed images, and a dim feeling of arousal when he tried to remember last night's escapades. Was she like him? A werewolf? Remus was now very, very confused.

_Well, I can't just lie here all day,_ he thought to himself. Remus tried to disengage himself from his new companion, but only succeeded in entangling himself even further. Then, with a loud, contented sigh, the mystery woman squirmed around to face him. Remus inhaled sharply through his teeth; his eyes widened to the size of golf balls. He knew her smooth skin, marred as it was by tiny scratches and purple bruises. He recognized her jet-black hair, wild and tangled as it had become. His lips had kissed those soft, pink lips with all the fervor and passion his tired body had ever possessed. Here, lying beside him, and dreaming peacefully, was the love of his life…Lyca Frost. Tentatively, as if he were afraid this was all some wonderfully horrible dream, Remus brushed a thick strand of hair away from her face.

Lyca stirred, rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand and desperately clinging to the last vestiges of sleep. She was tired and groggy, typical symptoms for the day after her monthly change. Her arms and legs were swathed in a cool, nocturnal breeze, causing goose bumps to appear on her exposed skins. She shivered her way into the waking world, blinking the sleep and darkness away from her blue-purple eyes.

Granted she had seen a lot of strange and downright unusual things in the past few months, but the absolute LAST thing she expected was to find Remus Lupin cradling her in his arms. He was just as she remembered him: disheveled, light brown hair flecked with premature gray; gaunt, pallid face wrecked with scars; thin, wiry body distracting in its obvious nakedness.

"Is this a dream?" She asked, her voice barely audible. Lyca was sure she sounded as weary and desperate as she felt, but didn't care. She wanted Remus here so much; her heart would break if this turned out to be some twisted reverie.

Remus licked his dry lips. "If it is," he replied. "Than I hope it never ends." Lyca let out a tear-choked laugh, and grabbed Remus into a vice-like embrace. "I missed you so much," was all he could manage to say.

Tears flowed freely from both parties and they were engulfed in a passionate deluge pain, guilt, and undying devotion. Remus blamed himself for everything. He hid his face in the nape of her neck mumbling heartfelt apologies and desperate pleas for forgiveness.

"Shhh," Lyca cooed, running her fingers though his hair. "There's nothing to forgive. It's not like you killed me or anything,"

"I might as well have," he replied. "I cost you your family, your friends, your education…I cursed you to spend the rest of your life as a mindless beast."

"Hey, who are you calling 'mindless'?"

"You know what I meant," he said dejectedly.

"No I don't," Lyca reassured him with a smile. "Besides, you have obviously never met my family. They're a bunch of prats! Honestly, I am better off without them."

"But-"

"No 'buts'," she replied and brought his eyes level with her own. "Now you listen to me Remus, none of this is your fault. I was being a nosy little pie-eater and got what I deserved. That bite you gave me hurt like the dickens!"

Remus interjected, "See! That's why I-"

"Nuh uh uh," Lyca quipped. "You didn't let me finish."

She paused for a moment: 100 mega-watt smile still on full blast. "It's true that life has not been easy since I found you in the Shrieking Shack that night. But I would rather suffer a hundred werewolf bites if that meant I could be with you. My family and so-called 'friends' never showed me one third of the love and affection you gave me in a handful sly glances and furtive caresses. They shunned me; you loved me. Life as a wolf once a month is a thousand times better than the shallow existence I lead without you. I love you, Remus."

Remus just sat there, mouth wide open, flabbergasted and wondering. Lyca loved him; she didn't hate him for the shame and pain he had (albeit unwittingly) caused her. She forgave him. She didn't blame him. She loved him! He felt as if Christmas had come early. She loved him! Remus smiled for the first time in months.

"I love you too."

They lay together in the grass, arms wrapped around each other, gazing into each other's eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness. And content with doing nothing else but simply being together. They talked about anything and everything: what had happened at school once Lyca had left, WHY Lyca had left, Lily and James's wedding, had Sirius gotten arrested yet, did Pettigrew grow a backbone, the Dark Lord's terrorist activities, and other such things. It was nice in an, 'I'm so happy to see you ' and a 'let's pretend we're not naked' kind of way.

A sudden hoot and the distinct flutter of wings disrupted their conversation. A brown spotted owl had landed on a low hanging branch by Remus's head, hooting loudly into his ear. It was carrying a small piece or ragged parchment in its beak. Remus sat up, reaching out to take the note from the near-hysterical bird. It wasn't signed, but he recognized the untidy scrawl of his friend Sirius immediately:

_Moony,_

_You are needed at Godric Hollow! _


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Remus wandered about in the undergrowth, desperately searching for the gray bundle of clothing he had tucked away earlier that night.

"Where, in the name of Merlin, did I put those damn clothes?"

So far, he wasn't having any luck. Finally, about fifteen minutes and a great deal of cursing later, he found his tattered collection of robes under a fallen down log next to a small stream.

He didn't remember putting them near the decomposing log, but a moonstruck werewolf on the verge of transformation is liable to forget some things. Besides, particularly shabby robes would only need to last him for his trip to Godric Hollow and back.

A pensive look fell over Remus's face as he thought about Godric Hollow. Why would Sirius summon him there? Was something wrong? Had something happened to the Potters during the night? How could anything had happened to Lily and James after Dumbledore AND the Marauders had so painstaking fought to keep them safe?

Lyca stretched her arms up towards the starry sky, feeling her muscles extend and contract (sometimes accompanied by a dull pain) as she moved.

Her thighs seemed to hurt the most. She stumbled every few feet on her way to the abandoned owl's nest where she had hidden her stuff.

She gasped quietly when she discovered traces of blood on the inner portions of her thighs.

She examined herself quickly, noting the extreme lack of the usual cuts and scratches that accompanied such bleeding.

How did that happen, she thought to herself. She wasn't due to have her period for another two weeks. What if we... Lyca threw a furtive glance at Remus, who was bent over a small group of ferns, searching frantically for his robes.

He was still naked and the sight of his naked behind pushed out into the wind made her giggle. It was as if the full moon had come out all over again. Apparently, she thought, I had a very interesting night.

Sirius was probably over reacting; playing a vicious prank on him. They wouldn't risk doing this to Wormtail; he was edgy enough as it was with the weight of being the Potters' Secret Keeper on his shoulders, but what about their good ol' werewolf friend?

James is probably on in on this one too, Remus thought. He had better be prepared for anything once he got there. There's no telling to what length those two would go for a good laugh (even if it was at someone else's expense).

Remus' only regret was that he was going to have to leave Lyca so soon. Their reunion would have to be cut short, but he would be back as soon as possible.

He loved Lyca with all his heart. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to ensure that they would never be parted again.

Remus turned around, pulling on the last of his clothing, only to find Lyca grinning at him seductively. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson and he cleared his throat as he walked towards her.

The vast array of naughty images running through his brain made it very difficult to concentrate. She was leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed under her breasts, making them bulge out of the old school robes she was wearing.

They were too small for her now, dirty, and in desperate need of repair. The frayed edges barely reached bellow her knees and the sleeves were patched in more than a few places.

Despite her extreme grunginess, Lyca never felt sexier than when Remus pressed up against her, pinning her against the tree, and began kissing her with a ferocity she fought to match.

Her stomach did flip-flops and the heat of his body made her shiver uncontrollably. They clung to each other with the strength born of years of pent up emotion. It culminated in a delirious passion that made them drunk on each other's presence; neither wanted to let go; neither wanted to admit to the other that it was time to go.

Finally, it was Lyca that half-heartedly broke their passionate embrace. "You should get going," she reminded him blandly, pushing lightly on his chest. "It could be urgent."

"You're probably right," Remus sighed. She was right; there was no 'probably' involved. He had a responsibility to Lily and James that he couldn't ignore.

But he loved Lyca too much to leave her so soon. His heart began to ache. He was being forced to choose between his best friends and love of his life.

In the end, his sense of honor and duty won out over his libido. This letter was a very serious business, he would investigate the situation thoroughly, but even that wouldn't stop him from getting back to Lyca as soon as wizardly possible.

Lyca looked up into Remus's face. He was seemingly deep in thought, as if considering something or trying to solve a difficult problem.

She let her eyes wander over his face, tracing and memorizing ever line and every curve. She brought her fingers up to his face and traced the deep furrows of his forehead, the bumps on his nose, the scars on his coarse, unshaven cheeks, and the dry, cracked skin of his lips.

She gazed into his eyes with all the patience and understanding she could muster; she had to be strong, as much for herself as for him. Parting again wasn't going to be easy.

She squeezed his hands tightly with her own, brought them to her lips, and kissed them softly before planting a soft kiss on his parched lips.

Lyca turned as if to walk away, but found she was being pulled back into Remus's arms. "I will come back for you," he said with more than a hint of sadness. "I know," Lyca replied, forcing a smile. "Because if you don't I'll have to hunt you down myself. And it won't be pretty when I find you."

Remus chuckled and kissed her again...and again...and again. After more minutes of goodbye kisses and feeble attempts to depart, Remus yanked himself away from the raven-haired girl of his dreams.

Remus smiled and continued to smile as he made to make his way to Godric Hollow. There were still so many things left unsaid; so many plans for their future that he wanted to share...Remus shrugged. Eh, there would be plenty of time to discuss everything and anything; they would sort out everything together once he got back…


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

By the time Remus arrived at Godric Hollow it was a couple of hours past moonset. Remus quietly walked past the sign that read 'Godric's Hollow'.

Nothing looked different, at least to the muggle eye, but Remus could see instantly something was terribly wrong.

Sirius was standing fixed near a smoldering pile of rubble. Remus' entire body felt numb or, maybe, a more precise description would be that he couldn't feel his body at all. He was afraid to speak; afraid to hear from someone else's mouth what he already knew in his heart to be true.

The Potters were dead.

Voldemort had found them.

Voldemort had killed them.

And he would never see Prongs again.

Remus quickly marched up to Sirius, who was, fixated on the remains of the Potter's house, and was fighting back sobs. His eyes seemed to carry a new weight; a depth of unimaginable sorrow that even Remus could not penetrate.

He placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder, feeling Padfoot's body shudder under the weight of his pain and frustration.

Sirius pulled Remus into a tight embrace; holding onto him like a drowning man would cling to a piece flotsam in the middle of a ocean tempest.

"Peter was their secret keeper, and he betrayed them!" Sirius gasped for air as the tears hit him with full force, but continued ranting. "I would've DIED; DIED rather than betray my friends!"

When Sirius had finally gained some composure, he managed to explain everything. Remus – who had already experienced a considerable amount of shock this evening, thank you very much – considered the news.

He seemed to look through rather than at Sirius. If he had gotten a good look at his face than maybe Remus would have seen that the mischievous grin that usually brightened his comrade's face, had disappeared, only to be replaced with a maniacal frown. Sirius looked like a dead man whose soul had just been torn asunder.

Remus gazed at Sirius, trying to keep a level head, and asked, "Harry will be living with you I presume?"

"No," Sirius closed his eyes and sighed. "Harry will be staying with his aunt and uncle. Dumbledore wouldn't tell me why, but I trust him. I lent Hagrid my flying motorcycle; he'll be taking my godson to wherever he needs to be."

Sirius began to tear up again, and with this new barrage of tears came the same emotional rants and insane death threats, which he had been vehemently spouting earlier.

But Remus could only think about Lyca, and how his breath had gotten caught in his throat when he had kissed her. He knew it was selfish of him, but she made him happy.

Remus heard a slight change in Sirius' voice, but barely took notice of it. Padfoot seemed to be going stark raving mad, but, then again, that could be considered normal behavior for Sirius.

Remus shook his head in agreement to whatever nonsense he half-heartedly heard. His thoughts were fully concentrated on Lyca: the smell of her hair and the feel of her skin.

"I'm gonna kill Peter," Sirius declared. "That bastard doesn't deserve to live. I'll rip his body apart with my bare hands!"

Before Remus could fully register the implications of Sirius's last words, there was a loud POP, and Padfoot was gone.

Remus found himself wandering around aimlessly. This was something he hadn't done since he was in his 6th year of school.

He didn't want to talk to Lyca, or even to Dumbledore. He retreated to the roaring fire of the Leaky cauldron, and a large tankard of Firewhisky. He hadn't drunk like this in a long time either.

Remus didn't like the idea of reverting back to his old habits, which he had gotten over so many years before, but what else could he do? His world was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it.

The Potters were dead; Wormtail betrayed them to the Dark Lord;

Padfoot had gone off to find and kill the traitor; and all this time Remus had been absorbed in his own little world.

He had let his reunion with Lyca distract him from his duties as a friend, Auror, and member of the Order.

Every blessed memory of Lyca was now undeniably tainted by his failure.

Lyca's face had become synonymous with his own failure and weakness.

He couldn't bear to think about her, let alone see and speak to her. Yet

He couldn't just leave her without saying a word…but what other choice did he have?

He was helpless.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Dumbledore's office looked exactly the same as it always did. It was as if time stood still and left everything as it was before she left Hogwarts. Fawkes was humming quietly on his perch, the late headmasters snoozed in their respective frames, various trinkets and magical doodads spun and whirled in their swift, incomprehensible ballet, and Dumbledore was leaning back in his comfy oversized, purple suede chair with that irritating yet loveable knowing smile on his face. His beard seemed to glow in the moonlight that streamed through the small office windows.

Nothing had changed.

Lyca stared at the cup of hot coco she held in her lap, absentmindedly stirring her spoon in a counterclockwise direction. She needed to speak to him about something very strange and important, but she didn't know how to approach the subject. So she continued to sit in her chair on the opposite side of Dumbledore's desk, shuffling her feet and twirling her thumbs, while Dumbledore steepled his long, pale fingers and stared at her curiously through his half-moon glasses.

After what felt like an eternity, Lyca gathered enough of courage to enable her to look straight into Dumbledore's bright blue eyes, and with a shaky voice exclaimed, "I think I'm pregnant!"

Dumbledore smiled with a twinkle in his eyes, "Well, congratulations are in order than. Shall I get some noise makers and party hats?"

Lyca sat in complete silence, legitimately confused, thinking _Is he serious?_ Than promptly shook her head and tried to explain everything. Meanwhile Dumbledore was already starting to conjure what looked decorations for a baby shower.

"You don't understand," she replied earnestly. "The father is Remus Lupin." Lyca knew that this little bit of information had caught Dumbledore's attention; he stopped mid-incantation and raised his eyebrows in an expression of piqued curiosity. Lyca waited for a response, but didn't receive and launched into a lengthy explanation anyway. She described everything that happened on that fateful Halloween night, when the moon was full and round and bright. She ended the story with her fists clenched her lap, her head held high, jaw firmly set and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I know that it's nearly impossible to conceive werewolf pups, but I _know _that we did it. I just know it!"

Dumbledore remained as still as a statue, while Lyca trembled under the weight of her own thoughts. It was one thing to think about something as insanely impossible as this, but it was another thing to tell someone, let alone one's wise, old headmaster. _I must sound like a raving lunatic_, Lyca thought grimly, but ultimately she had said what she felt she needed to say. All that she could now was wait for a reply.

Finally, in a voice that sounded as deep and unknowable as the sea, Dumbledore spoke. "No matter that the circumstances, I maintain my original opinion that congratulations are still in order." Lyca let out a wide breath that she didn't even know she had been holding.

"Still, this does present a problem" he replied. "I must tell you that Remus Lupin is gainfully unemployed at the moment, one of his best friends was arrested and taken to Azkaban for betraying the Potter family to Voldemort, as well as killing Peter Pettigrew – another one of Remus's friends – and a dozen muggles." Lyca flinched as Dumbledore uttered the Dark Lord's name, but Dumbledore continued unabated. "Remus has suffered a lot of pain and heartache in a very short period of time. While it is your choice to inform Remus now or later, I should think that news such as this, as astounding and unexpected as it is, might burden him rather than make him happy."

In one sentence, Lyca's dreams of becoming Mrs. Remus Lupin were shot, dashed, and otherwise obliterated. She could no longer look Dumbledore straight in the eyes, and contented herself with staring at the plush, carpeted floor.

"My suggestion," Dumbledore said, seemingly unaware of Lyca's sudden discomfort. "Is to lay low. I will help you with the pup or pups when the time arrives. And when they get to be of schooling age you can make the decision to tell Remus."

Lyca perked up at the idea of surprising Remus with his children. While she wasn't entirely thrilled with Dumbledore's plan, it was the best and only one she had. She inhaled and exhaled deeply; letting her brain process all of this new information. She would wait until the appointed time to tell Remus about his children. She nodded silently in agreement, and Dumbledore uttered some extra words of assurance mixed with encouragement.

Suddenly, as if her body had been waiting for that final decision, fatigue descended upon her. All the events of the past few days had finally caught up with her, and Lyca quickly slipped into blissful unconsciousness, still sitting in one of Dumbledore's chairs, where she dreamed sweet, wonderful dreams of her future offspring.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Some people say that nothing is more painful than a paper cut, others the bite of the occamy bird. Lyca, as she awoke from an oddly convoluted position in Dumbledore's chair, believed that a crick in the neck beat them all. Every time she moved, Lyca felt as if a swarm of doxies were making a feast out of her neck and shoulder.

It was late in the afternoon and Dumbledore was not in his study. Everyone was probably gathered in the Dining Hall for lunch by now: the Headmaster included. None of the other teachers knew she was here, and – for her safety as well as her child's – he could not risk exposing her presence, especially with so much political and social turmoil afoot in the wizarding world at the moment. Neither could she wander the halls of her alma mater; Lyca would have to content herself within the confines of Dumbledore's office.

"Blood and sand," Lyca moaned with a hand on her neck as she forced herself to sit up properly. Upon doing so she noticed a metal tray with a sizeable lid and a small stack of books, crowed with a small note, resting on Dumbledore's desk.

Lyca,

I took the liberty of borrowing a few books from the school library, which I thought you might enjoy. I hope they will keep you occupied until I return.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. – The tray is enchanted; have as much as you want.

Lyca lifted the lid of the tray to discover platefuls of eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast, along with cups of juice, tea, and coffee in various sizes. Everything looked steaming and piping and hot. Lyca grinned, as she had guessed the "enchantment' Dumbledore meant. She quickly grabbed a piece of toast before replacing the lid, only to reopen it again, but this time to an entirely different kind of breakfast feast. This time she got waffles with ice cream and syrup; next time she discovered French toast with honey glaze. She laughed and kept covering and uncovering the lid until she arrived at a piping hot stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

After finishing her breakfast – twice – Lyca began reading some of the books Dumbledore had left for her. The most interesting was Werewolf Birth and Other Oddities, by T.W. Canid, which – while generally acting more as a guide to some kind of magical freak show – turned out to be very useful.

_The typical werewolf comes into being when another werewolf bites a human being (assuming that said human being is lucky enough to survive said attack). Even then, the werewolf does not exist perpetually; it only exists during the full moon. At any other time, a werewolf is considered a normal person. This has caused werewolves to be shuffled between the Beast and Being divisions of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for years._

_It is possible, however unlikely, for werewolves to be actually conceived and birthed. There is no aspect of this particular process that is not extremely painful and, more often than not, deadly._

_The pup(s) can only be conceived during the full moon (while the parents are in werewolf form). The actual process of conception – the intrinsic mating rituals and sexual intercourse performed by the werewolf parents – is highly dangerous, both to the parents and any unfortunate observers, in that it more closely resembles a form of heated combat than lovemaking. _

_If the mother is lucky enough to survive this chance encounter with the father of her children, she doesn't have much to look forward to. Werewolf birth is one of the most painful experiences in the wizarding world; as the mother does not shift into wolf form while she is pregnant or giving birth. The gestation period lasts for five to six months, during which time the mother will experience intense cravings for raw meat, poultry, and/or fish. As well as emotional outbursts the likes of which make those of the average pregnant woman sound reasonable. The pregnancy is so short because the children grow and mature as wolves, not as human children. _

_The pup(s) – for werewolf children are often born in pairs – must be born on the night of the full moon. The influence of timing and the full moon on werewolf birth is very important for another, less understood reason: only werewolf pup(s) born on the full moon have any chance of retaining his or her humanity. If the pup(s) is born at any other time, it will remain a wolf, incapable of higher brain functions and the characteristic transformative process. They children will, essentially, be ordinary wolves for their entire lives. _

_Just as the gestation period of the pups is that of an average wolf or dog, so is the maturation time. The children grow and learn as wolf pups, incapable of transformation, until they are about a year old. At which point the children are capable of shifting from wolf to human form at will – unless it if the night of a full moon, in which case they are forced to take on their lupine forms. The children will continue grow at an exponential rate, until they reach their twenties, after which they will mature as normal human beings. It is, therefore, important to note that while werewolf children may have a temporal age of about five or six, they are physically, mentally, and emotionally mature._

_But the most interesting and defining characteristic of werewolf children, at least in this author's personal opinion, is this: When transformed, a normal werewolf loses all traces of his or her humanity, and will attack any witch or wizard, regardless of their prior relationship to said werewolf, who it happens to come across. This loss of human awareness and thought is completely unheard of in werechildren (provided they have been born at the correct time and under the correct circumstances). While their bodies may change during the course of the full moon, their minds do not. It is as if they were born with the Wolfsbane Potion in their blood (479)._

Lyca put down the book and tried to digest the information she had just read, and failed miserably at the process. She began pacing around Dumbledore's office, taking long, deep breaths in a feeble attempt to calm herself down. She eventually gave that up as well, stopping to rest her head against the end of the bookshelf at the far end of Dumbledore's office.

"For Remus and our baby," she whispered. "I have to be stronger than this." Lyca's knees gave out from under her and she slowly sank to the floor. "I can do this," she muttered, pulling her legs up to her chest and wishing for someone to talk to. "I can do this…"

Lyca was thrust out of her pensive state by the sudden bang of the study door slamming open. A man with dark, oily hair, pale skin and billowing black robes marched across the threshold and into the study. He had a slightly crazed, but satisfied look on his face. It was Severus Snape, but not the same Severus Snape she had gone to school with. He seemed different; taller, darker, slightly greasier, and a great deal angrier.

She had packed up her trunk and left in the middle of sixth year. Both Dumbledore and her parents had suggested that she leave immediately, without a word of explanation or warning to anyone. She had not had the chance to say goodbye to anyone. She had to save face. It hadn't mattered that much to Lyca. She knew none of the Slytherin girls, or anyone else in her House, would miss her. _No one except Severus_, she thought, as she watched him glare at the happy, whirling objects about the room, as if they had personally done something to offend him.

Lyca was ingeniously hidden behind Dumbledore's various magical knick-knacks. Regardless, he seemed to distracted to notice, even if she had been in plain sight. He was fervently scribbling on an old looking piece of parchment, using a ratted old book as a makeshift clipboard. His nose was practically touching the paper. It was a habit he had since childhood; something Severus did whenever he found something big and exciting. He would get so engrossed in what he was doing that he wouldn't even notice the ink stains the work left on the tip of his nose.

She had always wondered what had become of him. He probably had a lot of trouble after she left; he would have had no one to talk to. No one to help fight off the perpetual doom and gloom that dominated his psyche, thanks to his horrible excuse for a father. And she could only imagine the kind of torment he would have to endure from Potter and Black without her around to protect him. Lyca shuddered involuntarily. _Severus deserved better than that…_

He did, however, seemed to have achieved his dream of becoming a Potion Master, and, by the dark green and silver pin on the front of his robes, the head of Slytherin House as well. Lyca's heart swelled with pride, and in the process somehow managed to knock over protruding a book or two from the adjacent bookshelf. They landed on the floor with a loud thunk.

Severus paused, scanning the room for the source of the noise. "You know," he said in a surprisingly rich baritone. "I could easily take away all your House points for breaking into Dumbledore's office. Show yourself."

Lyca smiled and her eyebrows went up. So he thought she was a student, did he? She quickly stood erect, crossed her arms over her chest, and strolled into full view. "Oh really?" she replied. "I would _love_ to see you try."


End file.
